


Night One

by I_Missy_Moo



Series: The Mornings After [1]
Category: Poldark (TV 2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 16:50:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8998963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Missy_Moo/pseuds/I_Missy_Moo
Summary: Spoilers S01E03, S02E08A comparison if you will... Ross waking up in bed on two separate occasions. Two separate locations. Two separate ladies. Both times unplanned.





	

Daylight was approaching, yet he fought the moment of awakening. Comfortable. Yes, he was most definitely comfortable. The unfamiliar scent of lavender was a pleasant aroma to awaken to. It gave him a sense of…unexpected peace. He gradually opened his eyes…surfacing slowly, relishing in the warmth of his bed and feeling a reluctance to face the morning.

A mass of red curls sprawled across his pillow. The sun’s early rays splashed across her hair, highlighting the vibrancy of the colour. The gentle curve of her back faced him. Her soft, pale skin had fascinated him… ahhh yes he remembered! During the night he could not seem to get enough of touching that softness. His hands had been everywhere and she had responded enthusiastically to his touch. Every. Single. Time.

Had he been that starved of feminine company that taking a tumble with his kitchen maid had seemed to set his every nerve ending on fire? That their joining had been so…. Good? That a craving had been ignited in him and he had reached for her several times during the night, at times still half asleep, to join with her…just one more time. He could not answer the questions…he just knew that last evening he could not get enough of her. The memories flooded back and his thoughts made him smile briefly…until he realised how awkward it was going to be to face her in the morning light.

He would postpone the moment, he decided. He sighed and closed his eyes again and relaxed. If he was honest with himself he felt a sense of peace: a sense of calm, a sense of replenishment that he had not felt in months…years…perhaps ever?

She began to stir.

He felt her stretch slowly and she let out a soft murmur. She would be tender today he thought. He sensed that she turned slightly and cast a look in his direction. But…he didn’t open his eyes. He didn’t say anything. He was reluctant to break the magic that had happened during the night with the reality of the morning. So… he maintained his sleeping pretence.

She quickly slid from the bed. He heard the rustle of the blue silk dress and cautiously, ever so slightly, opened an eye. He was treated to a vision of long legs; trim buttocks and that long, delicate back that he had found so fascinating last night. She quickly pulled the dress up to cover her modesty. Quietly she made her way out of the room, without a backward glance.

He was surprised at the immediate sense of loss he felt.

He rolled over and breathed in the scent of lavender from her pillow.

What in the hell was he going to do now he thought…

**Author's Note:**

> Novice contributor to this site.  
> Experienced Poldark binge watcher.
> 
> This idea took hold...and just wouldn't let go. 
> 
> Thanks for stopping by.


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